


Of Birthdays and Surprises

by LostGirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Bondage, D/s, Exhibitionism, Fanfic, M/M, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, john/lestrade/sherlock - Freeform, rated r
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg’s got a surprise for John, and for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Birthdays and Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tremendously late birthday present for the fantastic [](http://fennishjournal.livejournal.com/profile)[**fennishjournal**](http://fennishjournal.livejournal.com/) who rocks like a rocking thing. *nods* It’s true. *G* **BIG HUGE** thanks to [](http://pennypaperbrain.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://pennypaperbrain.livejournal.com/)**pennypaperbrain** for that _wonderful_ beta magic!

John knelt on the floor in the living room at Baker Street. Just being there, in his home, naked and … waiting, was enough to make his pulse beat in this throat and wrists. They always did this at Greg’s place. Always. But today was special, and when Greg had arrived--grinning like the Cheshire cat--and ordered him to strip, John had gone weak enough in the knees that he was relieved when he was finally ordered down onto them. Of course, that had also come after the rope.

John’s breath hitched thinking about it. It twisted around his cock, rough and taut, pulling wonderfully at the pubic hair at the base. He wasn’t sure where Greg had learned to do that, to wrap it just so about the base of his prick and circle it around and around, making it squeeze just right until it ended in a loop just under the head. It was tied so that the knot sat in just the right spot, pulling at his foreskin and dragging a whimper from him whenever he moved. The rope wasn’t just on his cock, though. It circled his thighs and hips, his torso, digging into his chest and over his shoulders, holding his arms together behind him. It forced his shoulders back, constricting just right whenever he inhaled.

“I’ve got a special surprise for you,” Greg said, his fingers stroking through John’s hair. John struggled to keep still, to enjoy the press of the rope, its hold around his thighs, the knot that pressed up against the back of his balls. If he moved too much, he risked disappointing Greg, and no orgasm was worth that. John knew that, deep at the core of him, so he kept still and concentrated on Greg’s warm fingers as they scratched lightly against his skull.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” Greg asked, amusement roughening his voice as he tugged on John’s hair, pulling enough for John to feel it but not quite enough for that jolt of pain.

“Yes,” John gasped, both in answer to the question and at the sensation. He closed his eyes, his stomach tightening as he dropped deeper. Despite the effort to keep still outwardly, inside he felt centered, calm. John took deeper breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Over and over again.

“I just got a text from Molly.”

John nodded, the words mere background noise. It took them a moment to fully penetrate, and even when they did John had no idea what they were supposed to mean. He opened his eyes, rolling them up to meet Greg’s. The expression on his lover’s face was filled with desire, Greg’s eyes half closed, and a roguish smile on his lips. John whimpered. That look made him want to thrust his hips, want to feel Greg’s hands on more than his hair. The rope pressed into his flesh, and tugged at his foreskin with even the smallest move. He held himself still, his breath speeding up, coming in harsh gasps from the effort it took not to move.

Greg’s smile widened. “That’s a good boy, John. Keep still now.” The words by themselves sent a shock of pleasure through John. He’d earned those words, done well. Another whimper slipped out. “Don’t worry, it will be over soon. Like I said, I just got a text from Molly.” Greg’s smile became a smirk. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over John’s forehead, and then he bent lower to rub his stubble against John’s cheek. “Sherlock’s on his way home.”

John, who had been trying to get more of that rough brush of stubble without really moving, went completely and totally still, his cock pulsing inside its restraints. He’d told Greg about his fantasy a few months ago. The idea of Sherlock walking in on them like this… It did amazing things to John’s libido. Even now, with the reality of it approaching and a tiny bit of panic trying to claw its way through the calm quiet inside his head, John’s cock hardened within its rope confines. Pinpricks of pleasant pain washed through him, like goosebumps, but oh, so much better.

“He’ll be here in ten minutes or so. Give or take.” Greg’s voice was low in his ear. “And I plan for you to have your lips wrapped around my cock by then.”

The words sent a shudder through John’s entire body, his breath catching in his throat.

“But there’s still time for you to back out,” Greg said, chuckling, running a fingertip along the rope pressing against John’s hip, letting it drag against the sensitized skin. John’s eyes locked to Greg’s brown ones as his lover knelt before him. “What do you say?”

Sherlock would be there soon. He would walk in and find them together. He’d see John naked and bound, helpless. “Fuck.” John managed to nod as well, his voice hoarse and raw as he managed, “Green.”

Greg smiled, his fingers brushing lightly over the head of John’s cock. John let his head fall back, his mouth open and his eyes tight shut, moaning as Greg leaned in and bit at his neck, sucking hard, his hands moving over John’s back and down along his arms, to the ropes binding his wrists.

“Happy birthday, John.” Greg’s voice was low, his tongue warm against John’s pulse. He rocked them back and forth, and each movement tightened and loosened the ropes. One moment they dug into John’s flesh , pulled on his foreskin, constricted around his cock, and the next they relaxed, leaving the prickling pleasure/pain of returning blood flow. John would have liked to respond to Greg’s words, but his brain was slowly short- circuiting. It felt as if his neurons were lighting on fire, one by one, burning out under the onslaught of feeling.

Then Greg’s lips stilled, and the rocking stopped. John exhaled sharply, leaning his forehead against Greg’s shoulder as he tried to take deep breaths and calm himself. Greg petted his hair, giving him a moment to pull himself together. Greg pulled away eventually, his fingers brushing along John’s body as he stood. The change in position brought Greg’s cock to John’s eye level, a long, hard line pressing against the zipper of Greg’s trousers.

John’s mouth practically watered. He could almost feel Greg’s eyes on him, watching his face. John couldn’t look away as Greg lowered his zip. John’s lips parted and he watched as Greg pulled his cock free, imagining what the two of them looked like from the outside. How would Sherlock see them? What would he think to see John that way, naked, tied, with Greg fucking his mouth? He would arrive soon, would see John on his knees with Greg fucking his mouth, his body naked and raw and bound in rope. John gasped at the feel of Greg’s cock brushing his lips, at the slightly salty taste. He rocked back on his heels and ropes tightened around him, down along his arms, around his torso and legs, and cock.

“Fuck.” He’d barely breathed the word before Greg’s cock was sliding between his lips. The weight of it against his tongue was familiar, the taste of it made John’s eyes flutter shut. He moaned. The sound was muffled, but Greg echoed it, his hands clenching around John’s skull. He rocked his hips, pushing slowly along John’s tongue and then pulling slowly out again, one languid slide after another. The movements making the rope clutch tighter and release.

The rough fibers dug in, sending shivery jolts of pain over his skin. Every nerve ending lit up, his cock throbbing. His whole body ached, but beneath that there was a charge building under the patches of raw skin. He felt electrified, alive.

A gasp so small that John only barely heard it had his eyes popping open. He spotted Sherlock instantly, standing in the doorway with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. His gaze was fixed on John’s mouth and Greg’s cock, and then it darted off, landing on the ropes and slowing to take them in inch by inch. John’s whole body flushed at having Sherlock’s eyes on him and Greg’s hands, the smell of Greg’s body, the brush of Greg’s pubic hair against his nose before he pulled slowly out again. And Sherlock was taking it all in, marking every detail with those unwavering eyes. Would he keep this memory?

John whimpered around the head of Greg’s cock and Greg _laughed_ the sound heady and rich. John’s cock was so hard, aching and hot and pulsing with his need to come. The floorboards creaked and John flicked his eyes over to find Sherlock leaning toward them, his eyes on Greg now, breathing heavy and …. Yup. Hard. John could see the press of his cock against those posh trousers. Greg’s cock throbbed in his mouth and he picked up the pace. He rocked them both faster and the clench/loosen of the ropes was becoming almost too much for John to bear. He trembled all over, feeling the hot gaze of both men on him. Greg watched him with half-lidded eyes, the tension in his body a match to John’s, but Sherlock’s eyes were intensely focused on John’s lips and then they flicked up.

The meeting of their gazes sent a bolt of awareness straight to John’s already eager cock. Greg thrust hard into his mouth and suddenly John couldn’t breathe. His eyes watered, but he held Sherlock’s gaze, watched himself being watched. Greg pulled out and John sucked in air through his nose before the next thrust, struggling to keep his eyes locked with Sherlock, who took another step into the room.

The electricity beneath John’s skin was like fire now, white hot and beating with his racing heart and the blood in his prick. He was close, so goddamn close, but the rope wasn’t quite enough, and even if it was he would have fought it. It was against the rules to come before Greg. But he was riding the edge of the pain/pleasure/heat and holding on by sheer will. Greg thrust in and pulled out and groaned as his cock pulsed and he came.

John watched Sherlock gasp, his hand rising just a fraction toward Greg’s back. One of Greg’s hands stayed clenched in John’s hair while the other slid down, fingers caressing skin made extra-sensitive by the rub of the rope. John’s eyes closed at the sensation, but he forced them back open so that he could watch Sherlock’s reaction. Sherlock’s eyes followed Greg’s fingers as they traced over the tight stretch of John’s shoulders, his naked back. Goosebumps rose on John’s skin and he sucked in a breath, his muscles tightening.

Greg knelt, and John and he were eye to eye for a heartbeat that seemed to stretch out for a century or two. Greg leaned in, rubbing his cheek along John’s as he whispered, “You’re so good like this. You’re doing so well. Can you feel him watching you? Us?”

John whimpered and Greg’s hand closed around his cock. At first John pressed his face into Greg’s shoulder, hiding for a moment, but he couldn’t manage it long. With Greg’s hand on him, stroking him, John had to see Sherlock’s reaction. He looked up and found Sherlock’s eyes on his face, found a look so raw and open and… wanting, that John felt for a moment that he was the one catching Sherlock out. John swallowed hard. He couldn’t keep watching, instead pulling back to look to Greg, to his lovely hard face and his intent eyes. Greg’s fingers stroked John’s cock, his lips close enough that John could feel his hot breath against his cheek.

“Are you ready, John?”

John shuddered at the sound of his lover’s voice. It was intimate, and John felt all the more exposed.

“Yes,” he managed to gasp out between panted breaths.

“Say please.”

John’s control almost gave out and his ‘please,’ came out strained, desperate.

“You’ve been a good boy, John.”

He whimpered and struggled not to move, not to thrust his cock into the loose grip of Greg’s hand.

“Come for me, now.” He tightened his grip and John was gone, right over the edge. All the sensations combined, waves pouring through him, his muscles tense and his body shaking. Greg held him upright, kept him from pulling the ropes too tight as he shook and spasmed and white noise filled his ears. He buried his face against Greg’s shoulder and rode out his orgasm, gasping and whimpering.

“God.” Sherlock whispered the word, but it seemed loud in the quiet of the aftermath. John wasn’t sure he really wanted to know just what Sherlock would have to say about Greg’s little surprise, especially not now when his body felt so pleasant and his brain felt so fuzzy.

“You did well, so well,” Greg whispered, and it gave John the strength to look up, as Greg took advantage of their position to reach over him and release the various knots.

Sherlock looked stunned. His gaze met John’s and he opened and closed his mouth, saying not a word. John managed a smile and the one Sherlock gave him in return was a tad hesitant, but nonetheless made John feel optimistic that Sherlock wasn’t angry about this little stunt. Greg released the final knot around his arms and they tingled with returning blood flow. John groaned, pressing his face back into Greg’s shoulder and Greg rubbed his arms to help he blood get moving again, before starting on the other knots.

Sherlock was silent throughout. _Processing_ , John thought, and imagined he could see a little progress bar over Sherlock’s head. When John was mobile again, he turned toward Greg’s ear. “Time to face the music. Let me handle it.”

Greg nodded and helped John lean back onto his heels. John snagged one of the robes lying nearby. He wasn’t sure he could face Sherlock while naked. He looked up to find Sherlock leaning against the door jamb. He’d composed himself now, his coat wrapped around him like armor. He spoke before John could gather anything.

“Did you two enjoy that?” He sounded more bemused than angry. “No. Don’t answer. I saw that you did.”

“Sherlock,” John began, only to fall silent when Sherlock raised his hand.

“Just remember, John,” Sherlock’s lips quirked in a strange sort of smile, almost predatory. “My birthday is right around the corner.”

John blinked, his mouth dropping open as Sherlock turned and headed for his bedroom. He called back over his shoulder as he went, “Right. Around. The corner.”

John looked over at Greg, who’d slipped on the other robe. Their gazes met and John’s stomach leapt into his throat as Greg’s grin reflected his own.


End file.
